


( I'm scared to know) I'm always on your mind

by Bellarke Trash (romanticblossom)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bellarke, F/M, FanFiction.Net, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 22:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7193087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticblossom/pseuds/Bellarke%20Trash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt: The delinquents go back to the dropship for a mission and get trapped in another storm and they have to spend the night and in the middle of the night there's noise and so Bellamy and the gang go to see what's going on and it's Clarke surrounded by drawings of everyone they've lost and there's several pictures of Wells (all perfect but incomplete) and she's kind of freaking out because she "can't remember his smile" and they have to calm her down</p><p>*Bellamy is successful in getting Clarke back from Roan i.e. Canon Compliant until 3x02*</p>
            </blockquote>





	( I'm scared to know) I'm always on your mind

**Author's Note:**

> So, this prompt was by @shadow-princess-chea (on tumblr) I hope she likes it even if it took me forever and I'm so rusty!
> 
> Special thanks to my awesome beta @dmigod (on tumblr) and my creative consultant (XD) @the-ships-to-rule-them-all (also on tumblr)

 

Raindrops _clanked_ against the drop ship metal walls. The force of the wind could lift the old ship and throw it back into the oblivion of space if only it wanted to. This was nothing compared to the reverberation caused by the thunder.

 The delinquents slept.

None of them should be there. When Kane and Abby asked Monty to get supplies from the drop ship, that's who they meant: Monty. Not Jasper, not Raven, not Octavia and definitely not Bellamy or Clarke.

But, truth be told, Monty didn't want to be alone. He needed help to carry whatever supplies he found; _that_ and facing their old home by himself wouldn't be easy. He would have asked Jasper for help if his old friend wasn't so damaged and angry at the entire universe. He considered asking Raven for help, if only she wasn't just as angry at the world and at herself.

Octavia was completely out of question. He doubted the girl would take orders from anyone from Arkadia and, well, she wasn't even in Arkadia much these days.

Miller and Harper would go with him if they only could. With everything good and bad that happened on the drop ship, they'd love to come back to it. If only they could find some free time off their duties to go with him.

And Clarke…. Clarke was a mess. Sure, they had got her back. Sure, she had come back to them willingly. But she had gone wild on her cold leader mode, desperately trying to bury all her ghosts far deep. And he loved her, and he forgave her while others couldn't—

 

(he still didn't understand how Bellamy, of all people, couldn't do it;

He couldn't grasp how two people could fight so much to find each other, only to be apart when they succeeded.)

 

—but he also knew Clarke shouldn't be around the drop ship and her memories. He wouldn't ask that much of her.

He settled for Bellamy then. Not that he looked any better than Clarke. But Bellamy… Bellamy was always okay. And Monty knew that seeing their old home would make him feel better. It would remind him he wasn't as helpless as he felt inside.

 (deep down, Monty knew he would have chosen Bellamy anyway).

 But in the end, it didn't really matter as Raven, Octavia, Jasper and Clarke ended up coming anyway. Each of them with an excuse that was more ridiculous than the other: from forgetting an old scarf behind to needing new knife sharpeners.

(he wondered how on that toxic earth they found out about his mission. But he suspected it had something to do with Miller's and Harper's big mouths. )

And so they had a long hard day gathering old supplies, and they planned on going back to Arkadia at the end of the day. That was until Monty bent over to grab some emergency glow sticks and lost his balance because of a gust of wind. Then Octavia was nearly blinded by a flying branch that almost hit her head and their recently built campfire vanished.

  _A hurricane_ , of course, a _damn_ hurricane.

 They ran to the drop ship, closed the doors and hoped for the best. And if sleep finally caught to them when they were at it, it was probably just because they had a tiring day.

(no, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was the first time they felt safe and at peace in months)

 

* * *

 

A loud and metallic _clink_ woke them up at once.

Jasper flew into a sitting position, chest rising and falling as his eyes widened. Monty looked around blinking quickly. Raven just groaned, rolled over on the ground and closed her eyes again. Bellamy already had a gun in his hands and Octavia, a knife.

Raven looked around the nearly dark room, the dim light of one of the emergency lamps they found, revealing the silhouettes of her three friends and one empty sleeping bag.

"Clarke?"

There was silence until another thud came from upstairs.

Bellamy and Octavia were on their feet in seconds. They exchanged a look before Bellamy climbed the ladder, with his sister on his tail.

He opened the hatch, calling "Clarke?" from the top step of the ladder. There was no answer so he looked down to Octavia, who clenched her jaw.

"Clarke!" Jasper's shout came loudly from somewhere beneath the Blake siblings. Octavia whipped her head around at the sound while Bellamy winced.

And then, a croaked "I'm here" above them.

As Bellamy entered the room, his feet made scratching noises at every step. When he looked to the floor, he saw Finn staring back at him.

But not the ragged and bruised Finn, not a boy haunted by regrets, fear or anger. Not a boy with scars and blood on his face. Just Finn. Spacewalker when he still had long hero hair and a mischievous smile that made all girls in camp go crazy.

There he was, made of perfect contours, of light and shadows on a thick and yellowish paper.

Bellamy swallowed the lump in his throat as he bent down and picked it up.

A whimper echoed around the room, Bellamy straightened his back and turned around. Clarke was sitting on the ground, surrounded by sheets of papers, shaking with sobs and clutching a charcoal stick.

The drawing slipped from Bellamy's hands and dropped back on the floor and he froze. Her face was hidden by the shadows and her hair reflected the golden glow of an emergency light overhead. Tears fell on the sketches beneath her and she didn't bother drying her cheeks.

Octavia approached Clarke, and suddenly, Bellamy remembered that the others had followed him.

Then, Monty reached the girls and kneeled in front of Clarke, placing a hand on her shoulder. Paper shuffled behind Bellamy and he instinctively turned around before hearing what the other boy was going to say.

Raven was half bent over, with the paper Bellamy had just dropped in her hands. She stared at it with furrowed eyebrows, gripping its edges until they crumpled.

Not so far from Raven, Jasper stood still. He looked at the drawing by his feet, with lights reflected on the tears welling in his eyes.

"I can't… I can't remember" Clarke's throaty grunt broke Bellamy's trance. He turned around again, Octavia was kneeling in front of Clarke mimicking Monty, both looking at her as she cried. Clarke looked at the drawing near her knee and sniffed, "I can't remember what he looked like".

Octavia followed her eyes and reached for the sheet of paper as Clarke shook her head, "I can't remember his smile."

For the life of him, Bellamy couldn't move. He has seen Clarke at her worst—but never like this. And if his feet could only move, if his mouth could only open, he'd go to her and explain that it wasn't her fault.

Because, oh, he wished this was just about the drawings.

He wished this was not about the darkness and guilt they all had to carry, but she insisted on bearing alone.

He wished to ignore the realization all of them had simultaneously: that this was not the first time Clarke had been on the drop ship when she first left; that she had visited this place countless times just to remember the faces of every single person they had ever lost.

But above all, he wished his resentment hadn't convinced him to ignore the feeling that grew in his stomach ever since they rescued Clarke. The feeling that told him she wasn't okay and she needed help.

She needed _him._

It was easier to tell himself that she had never, that it was all a lie, that when he begged for her to stay and she didn't, it was proof. He wasn't special, anyone else could be there for her just as much as he could, anyone else could see the things he did.

 

(Those were the lies and excuses he kept telling himself every night before sleeping and every day when he saw her face across camp.

Lies and more lies, because he _knew_ her. He knew her _better_.

And he wasn't there for her.)

 

If only his legs could move, but he just watched instead.

Jasper tapped on Bellamy's shoulder, his eyes were still red from the crying. He looked down at the paper on his left hand and gave it to Bellamy. He took it and Jasper walked past him and sat down in a poorly lit corner of the drop ship to stare at Clarke's drawing of Maya.

Bellamy looked down at the sketch in his hands.

Charlotte had her eyes closed as she laughed, her hair was braided and she wore a little jacket, just as he remembered. Bellamy's throat closed and his jaw clenched. Charlotte's face became a mess of faded yellow and gray as his vision blurred. He took a deep breath before turning away from it, from _her_.

Octavia stared at the perfect drawing of someone she barely knew. He was made of perfect lines and edges, kind innocent eyes crinkled at the edges. She looked up at Clarke, then down at the half dozen drawings by their feet.

All Wells. All incomplete.

The first one was a profile, he had his eyes closed and chin lifted, but a blank space where his mouth was supposed to be. Beside it, one was artistic, several leaves framed his figure as he held a chess piece in his hands, but again, no mouth.

Octavia studied each one of them, clenching her jaw at the painful perfection of Clarke's strokes.

"Why are you drawing them?", Octavia's question filled the room. Her voice was as sharp as the cold metal walls surrounding them.

Clarke wrinkled her forehead and averted her eyes, caressing a picture of Wells from under her foot. One of her tears had fallen on his nose, ruining its angles and edges.

Octavia tilted her head down chasing Clarke's eyes with an eyebrow raised, "Clarke?"

The blonde raised her head at once and closed her eyes, "Because I have to remember."

Octavia stared at her, pressing her lips together before asking, "Why?"

It was obvious why. But it still frustrated Octavia. She was angry at Clarke; she had been angry _for so long_. And it was easier to hate her when she was the fearless Wanheda, the skaikru queen who would sacrifice her some of her own people if needed. It was easier when she was just the woman who left her people to deal with their own problems, not the blonde princess she once knew. It was easier to hate her when she wasn't the healer, the leader and the girl who loved their people so much she'd go back to this place countless times just to etch their likeness.

Clarke wrinkled her forehead and shook her head, saying, "We'll never see them again—" She looked up at Octavia, eyes bright and red. "No one—no one will see them again if I don't—" Her mouth trembled, then shut closed and formed a grimace.

Octavia swallowed hard, nodding. Bellamy closed his eyes and drew a deep breath while Jasper raised his head from Maya's drawing to look at them. Raven folded Finn's drawing, placed it in her pocket and walked towards them.

"But I can't—" Clarke took a deep breath and picked a drawing off the floor and stared at it. "I can't remember Wells."

Monty and Octavia exchanged a look, he nodded at her and they looked back at Clarke.

"Maybe we can help?" He raised an eyebrow.

Clarke's blinked twice. "What?"

Octavia nodded and leaned closer to her, "Yeah. I don't know how these things work but," she visibly bit the inside of her cheek, "Pretty sure I remember a few things about him."

Clarke stared at her with her widened eyes. Octavia had barely said two words to her since the older girl had returned.

"Yeah." Jasper cleared his throat and walked towards them before Clarke could ruin the moment by asking Octavia why she was helping. He sat beside the brunette and sniffed. "He even laughed at one of my jokes once," he offered with a small smile. "I think I can help too."

Clarke furrowed her eyebrows and blinked rapidly, she opened her mouth to speak but Octavia snatched the sketch from her hands before she could.

"What do you think, guys?" She asked and they leaned closer to her so they could see it.

Monty angled his head to the side. "I think he had a dimple over there." He pointed at somewhere on the page.

Jasper squinted at the paper, "I think his mouth was slightly askew."

Clarke was about to ask how did they remember that when Raven interrupted her.

"And his lips, don't forget he had full lips," she reminded them as she approached, looking over their shoulders at the picture of Wells.

When they turned to look at her she continued, "What?" She placed a hand on her hip, "He was the Chancellor's son and there were pictures of him everywhere and he was hot, okay? I didn't have to know him." She shrugged and Clarke couldn't help but smile at their antics.

"Now, gimme some space." Raven sat down between Octavia and Jasper.

Clarke watched as they tossed suggestions back and forth, creating the perfect sound picture of her friend's smile.

After what felt like an hour, Octavia turned the picture around and handed it back to her. She stood up and walked around Clarke to stand behind her.

Clarke looked up at her, and the younger Blake raised her eyebrows and motioned to the paper with her head. "Go on, this thing won't draw itself."

Clarke turned around, placed the paper on the floor and grabbed her charcoal stick. Octavia started barking instructions on how to draw Well's smile and their fearless leader followed them.

Everyone else watched in silence as the girls worked.

Bellamy watched in wonder as his sister helped Clarke. She had hated Clarke for months on end, rolling her eyes whenever her name was mentioned, snapping when people asked about her whereabouts, scoffing when they talked about her "great" deeds, relentlessly telling Bellamy to stop missing her.

 Yet, there she was.

 "Done?" Raven's question broke his train of thought.

Clarke stared down at her drawing and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she nodded.

"Let me see," Raven replied.

Clarke turned the picture around and Monty took it from her hands. The trio looked at the drawing in silence.

Raven's eyes were glued to the page as she murmured, "It does look like him."

Jasper nodded with wide eyes.

"Exactly like him," Monty raised his head to look at Clarke and Octavia, but his eyes kept darting down to the paper.

Clarke smiled at them.

Octavia just looked around at their watery eyes, and cleared her throat. "Now can we go back to sleep?" she asked with a raised eyebrow, then headed downstairs, not waiting for an answer.

Clarke and Monty shook their heads as Jasper and Raven chuckled. Octavia sure hated sensitive things.

Since Raven hated it just as much, she stood up slowly, "I'm gonna go too"

Jasper looked around the room, "And I should probably—" But before he could finish, Raven took him by the elbow and helped him up.

Monty glanced at Clarke and nodded at her. In reply, she silently smiled, and he stood up and followed after them.

The three of them walked past Bellamy, Clarke watched out of the corner of her eyes as his figure stood still, not following them.

Soon, the sound of their friends' steps faded and the loudest noise in the room was the sound of their breathing.

 

(The fact that she and Bellamy hadn't shared a word or even a glance during her outburst wasn't lost on her.

Nothing Bellamy Blake did was ever lost on her anymore.

Especially the fact that he was angry at her, and was trying to fight it. )

 

When she glanced over at him, his eyes were already on her. She pressed her lips together and he cleared his throat before turning around.

As he reached the ladder, something caught his eye. There was a box beside the hatch, and a piece of paper stuck out from under the lid.

He reached for it and Clarke drew a sharp breath. As he yanked the paper, the box toppled over and all of its contents scattered on the ground. But he didn't budge, too distracted by the paper in his hands.

"Bellamy I—", Clarke's voice cracked, but she didn't know what to say, where to even begin.

His back stiffened but he didn't say a word. And she didn't know what unnerved her the most: his absolute silence or her inability move her damn tongue.

Bellamy was staring back at himself. Or what he supposed he looked like or used to look like. (Mirrors were kind of a luxury those days). He wrinkled his forehead and clenched his jaw, trying to remember the last time he had smiled the way he was smiling on that drawing. From his clothes, the length of his hair and the scars of his face, he could tell that this wasn't just a scene from Clarke's imagination.

 He remembered.

 The last time he had laughed around Clarke happened before they were all so ruined.

Before the Mountain Men and Grounder Politics and breaking each other's hearts. He gripped the paper and his ears were ringing. How come that after all the pain and loss they've been through, Clarke could remember something so simple as Unity Day? There were about a thousand things more memorable than that. How come she could remember him—

"I was afraid," Clarke whispered and he turned to her. Her eyes were glassy and she bit her bottom lip before looking him in the eye. "I was afraid I would forget about _yours_ ".

Bellamy blinked twice before looking down. He counted three more drawings of him by his feet, didn't even count the ones he could see out of the corner of his eye. On the first one, the wind was blowing his hair as he smiled (he had no idea Clarke could be that optimistic). On the second, his arms were folded in front of his chest as one corner of his mouth lifted, forming a smirk. (That one was spot on.) And the third one also featured his grin, so did the next, so did the next.

Countless etchings of his smiles were spread on the floor, all created by Clarke's hands.

He swallowed, willing his breath to slow down.

Maybe if it did he wouldn't acknowledge the fact that Clarke had been thinking about him all this time, even when he told himself over and over that she wasn't.

He didn't know why the fact that she couldn't draw Wells made her worry about drawing him, he didn't want to think about why this was so important to her. And as he surveyed the drawings, he realized there were more pressing matters to discuss.

He took a deep breath. "It's not enough." His voice was one octave lower than normal.

Clarke's stomach dropped. Deep down, she knew it would come the time when Bellamy would confront her about her leaving. She just never imagined it would be like this: her, a crying mess on the floor and surrounded by her darkest secrets, the worst of them in his hands.

He raised his head and held up the drawing. "You can't just go away and make one of these whenever you miss _us_ , Clarke." He paused and his cheeks heated up, the choice of pronoun was telling. "You can't just leave to never come back because you know you can draw this when it gets too hard. It's not fair," he exhaled, ran a hand down his face and stared into her eyes, "and it's not _enough_."

It dawned on her was he was trying to say and she lost her breath, "It's not enough for me either," she blurted out.

Bellamy's eyes widened for a moment before he pressed his lips together and nodded, averting his gaze.

Clarke's face was suddenly on fire and she looked away, fiddling with the page in front of her.

Clarke wasn't even sure what she had just answered, but whatever it was, she _meant it._

"Hey, Clarke, Bellamy I think it stopped rai—" Jasper's voice echoed, he stopped at the top of the ladder. "—ning..." He trailed off as he looked around, realized Bellamy and Clarke were looking away from each other red as tomatoes.

Clarke bit her lip and stood up, looking at Jasper with sparkling blue eyes, "We should get the things packed, then."

Jasper nodded, deciding to go downstairs before spending another minute in that awkwardness.

Clarke walked towards the ladder while Bellamy picked up the box he had knocked over. He was about to place the drawing back in its old place when Clarke stopped beside him.

When she looked at him he stopped in his tracks, she chewed the inside of her cheek, "Keep it," she smiled something small and genuine, "I'm not gonna need it anymore."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for Reading!  
> Don't forget to review (it takes 2 seconds to made a writer happy :D)  
> God bless you


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